


Artillery

by eff_reality



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-29
Updated: 2013-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-16 14:17:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/862963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eff_reality/pseuds/eff_reality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For <a href="http://shelley6441.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://shelley6441.livejournal.com/"></a><b>shelley6441</b>, who requested an argument, Dom storming out, and a makeup.  Mostly silly, fluffy, and lovey.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Artillery

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://shelley6441.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://shelley6441.livejournal.com/)**shelley6441** , who requested an argument, Dom storming out, and a makeup. Mostly silly, fluffy, and lovey.

It's like that board game, Risk, Dom thinks. You spend all this time calculating and strategizing, holding back, your breath caught in your throat, waiting, watching, wanting. You tie your fingers in knots behind your back until the perfect moment presents itself to plant your flag.

On the sofa across the room, Orlando wraps both arms around Billy's middle and melts against him, a wide, drunken, disgustingly bright smile taking over his face. And Billy pets his head.

But while you're busy waiting, fingers in knots and all, sometimes some cuntfaced fuck comes along and plants his cuntfaced flag in your coveted Ukraine. Right. Under. Your. Nose.

Dom supposes that if he were creating a truly perfect analogy, he'd be looking to plant his flag in Scotland, not Ukraine. But then again, Ukraine was always the grand prize of Risk, wasn't it? And Billy deserves no less. And besides, Dom's too busy re-strategizing to give a fuck, trying to figure out a way across that big blue ocean of a living room for a surprise attack on the cuntfaced New Guinea (Orli's English, but Dom called dibs on the motherland first, ta very much) to take back his beloved Scotland. Ukraine. Whatever it was.

Fucking hell, though, he thinks, slamming his glass down and pouring himself another scotch in defiance. Billy is _his_. He just fucking _is_ , and everyone knows it. Sure, they haven't made it official. To be fair, they haven't even confessed an attraction of any sort to each other, plainly. But over the past two weeks, something has changed. Something has clearly changed, and it's palpable, and everyone on set can see it. Their harmless flirting, which could always be chalked up to a meeting of two equally cheeky minds, suddenly took a sharp turn circa two Thursdays ago.

Billy started it! It had been someone's birthday--Dom can't be arsed to recall such insignificant details--and there had been cake. There had been cake, with frosting, and then there'd been frosting on Dom's chin. And then there'd been Billy, thumbing said frosting off said chin and sucking it off said thumb.

"Mm." Billy's voice had gone light with approval. "You've improved upon it, haven't you?" And then he took another suck at his thumb with that wicked upturned mouth as he made his exit. And Dom nearly had a fucking coronary.

He could have dropped to his knees and sucked Billy off right there, really, he could have, even with whoever else had been in the room at that point. But the way things ended up going had been so much more fun. Instead of instant satisfaction (or a punch in the face, who knows what Billy really would have done?), he'd gotten more than two weeks of glorious crescendo, a dizzy, dangerous dance of suggestion and testing. And now it's abundantly clear that they're on the brink of _something_. They both know it and feel it. There's no rush, though. They're enjoying the ride, not skidding but gliding toward the next plateau on The Road of Billy and Dom.

Or so Dom thought. Now he's not so sure of anything, watching Billy's skilled little fingertips scratch through the thick part of Orlando's mohawk. Now the only thing he's sure of is that he wants to finish this glass of scotch in one gulp--which he does, before slamming it down on the countertop. The sound carries from the kitchen archway to the living room, and everyone turns their heads. Good, Dom thinks, stomping his way down the hall and out the front door.

He clenches his eyes and inhales, then watches his breath release in a stream of white air. He stuffs his hands into his jeans pockets and mutters, "Shite." The downside to making a dramatic exit: hypothermia.

Not a minute passes before the front door opens and shuts again, this time at a reasonable volume. Dom knows it's Billy just by the sound of his shoes and the way he shifts his weight. It's uncomfortably still and silent behind him for a moment or two, and then he feels his own fleece being wrapped around him. He closes his eyes and protests, "No, 'm fine."

"Humor me." Billy cranes his neck over Dom's shoulder. "Alright?"

With a petulant sigh, Dom shrugs out of Billy's hands and pulls his fleece on properly as he walks to the opposite end of the porch.

Billy's silent again, waiting for Dom to talk, but Dom thinks he shouldn't fucking have to--Bill knows bloody well why he walked out just now.

Dom twists his mouth and shrugs his shoulders up to his ears.

...Doesn't he?

Billy sighs. "Right. I'll just fuck off, then."

"It's just." Dom's voice is high and tight with tension. He turns and faces Billy, who looks infuriatingly patient. "I was going to plant my fucking flag first!"

There's a _long_ silence, accompanied by a double eyebrow lift from Billy. Finally, he laughs. "What are you on about, you crazy bastard?"

Dom rubs his eyes. Fuck, he's getting fuzzy. "Have you ever played Risk? The board game?"

Billy's eyes shift to the side as he considers. He shakes his head, stepping closer.

"Nevermind." Dom suddenly wants to haul himself over the porch railing. But it wouldn't do him any good--they're on the ground floor. "I'm daft." He glances up at Billy, whose lips are drawn inward in a sympathetic grimace. "Whatever it was I thought," he explains, "I thought wrong, obviously." He hops up onto the railing and sits there. "My instincts are fucked."

After another _long_ silence, Billy quirks his mouth at Dom and lets himself stumble toward him, as if pulled by a string around his waist. "Alright," he sighs heavily. Once his stomach is flush with Dom's calves, he plants his hands on Dom's thighs and looks up at him. "I didn't want to have to do this, but. Eh." He pulls Dom down to him by the back of his neck and forces a kiss.

Billy's mouth is warm and wet, and it sends a chill right down the center of Dom's back. He laughs into Billy's mouth as he pulls away, his eyes bright. "Billy, what the fuck?"

"You're not mad at me anymore, are you?"

That's nowhere near what Dom wants to hear. "I don't know. I think I might be madder now."

Before Dom has time to think through an explanation, Billy steps closer, between his knees, and pulls Dom back down to him again. He gently works his tongue into Dom's mouth this time, tugging at the hair on the back of his head, and Dom exhales heavily, going limp. Just when their tongues have finally wrapped around each other, Billy pulls away again. "What about now?"

Dom doesn't open his eyes. His brain doesn't seem to be working. In fact, he's certain that if he were a robot, his circuits would have just shorted out. But he somehow manages to reply, "Not sure. C'mere." He pulls Billy back up to him, onto the balls of his feet, and initiates their third kiss--their third kiss like _this_. Dom tugs on Billy's bottom lip with his teeth, drawing all sorts of gorgeous little noises out of the back of his throat, and there's no fucking way he's stopping now.

Except that Billy pulls them apart again. He looks flushed and playful. Sensual. "Now?"

"Still not sure," Dom manages to get out before kissing Billy again, this time harder, firmer. "God, this feels really fucking good," he whispers against his mouth, then seizes it again.

Billy pulls away for a second--"Doesn't it?"--then bites at Dom's jaw while pulling his legs around his waist, the magnificent, multitasking bastard. Now their bodies are completely flush and Dom is losing his mind. Billy's hands slide over his arms, his shoulders, his neck, finding the nape and scratching through the hair there.

The rustling sound at the base of his skull startles Dom. He works at putting Billy at arm's length. Billy's mouth hangs half-open, missing him. Dom licks his own lips in empathy, pulling Billy's fingers away from his head. He looks down at his lap. "Yeah, so Orli."

"Hm?"

"He seems to really like your fingers."

Without a moment's pause, Billy replies, "Well, that's a shame." He brings his right hand to the side of Dom's neck and drags his fingertips down the length of it. "Because my fingers seem to prefer someone else." He runs the thumb of his other hand over Dom's zip fly, and Dom gasps a little. "Quite strongly, actually."

Dom smiles and grasps Billy's hand, using it to balance him as he slides off the railing. He pulls Billy to him by the lapels of his coat and kisses him slowly and thoroughly, pressing them together from chest to toe. They moan into each other's mouths at this new, perfect sensation, their kiss turning into something quicker and dirtier.

A boisterous laugh erupts from inside, muffled, and it sets Dom's heart racing. He tears his mouth away from Billy's and drops his forehead to his shoulder. "Maybe this isn't a good idea." His fingers tease at the inside of Billy's waistband. "I mean... I don't think I can just keep kissing you."

"No?"

Dom shakes his head slowly, so Billy can feel it through his shoulder. His head lifts of its own accord when he feels Billy's soft little mouth moving down the side of his neck, tracing the path his fingers took a minute before. " _Fuck_. No." Dom's hands move under the hem of Billy's shirt, feeling the bit of hair on his stomach. "Another minute of this, and I'm tearing all your clothes off." Billy laughs dark and low into Dom's neck, and the vibrations feel like victory. "I mean it." His breath catches when Billy sets his teeth in there and sucks. He licks his lips and lets out a high, breathy moan, sounding like a total girl and not giving a fuck. "You'll be naked on this porch, and that'll be that."

Billy takes a turn resting his head on Dom's shoulder and clears his throat, reaching into the front pouch of Dom's fleece and jingling something. It takes Dom a second to realize it's his keys--the keys to his car to take them home, and the keys to his home to take them to bed.

"Yeah?" Dom doesn't think he'll be able to stop smiling.

Billy nods his head slowly, so Dom can feel it through his shoulder.

"England has taken Ukraine," Dom announces, taking Billy's hand to lead him off the porch. Billy looks at him quizzically. "Nevermind." He waves his free hand through the air, already shivering with anticipation.

They don't bother to explain or even say goodbye to the others. New Guinea can take his mohawk and piss off.  



End file.
